Witches With the Enemy

by Barb Hendee

  She was afraid and needed help, and her first instinct was to call for him. He bolted, running to Lord Hamish and catching him as he fell backward.

  Céline was suddenly kneeling beside them and pulling at Lord Hamish’s collar to loosen it and begging him to try to relax.

  Hamish’s eyes bulged in agony. He fought to breathe and failed. Maddox desperately wanted to help—to show Rochelle that he could help—but there was nothing to be done. Hamish’s body began to convulse.

  A few moments later, he died with his eyes still open.

  In despair that he had failed Rochelle somehow, Maddox looked up at Rochelle, and she stared back at him.

  He was well aware that this exchange was not lost on Damek.

  * * *

  By the following afternoon, Maddox’s opinion of Céline had somewhat altered. She had angered him in the late morning by using Lizbeth to lure him out to the stable so she could “read him.” But no harm had come from that, and he’d not seen young Lizbeth so happy since their arrival in Kimovesk.

  Charlatan or not, tool of the Pählen princes or not, Céline had a kindness about her that couldn’t be denied—and Maddox couldn’t help liking anyone who was kind to Lizbeth.

  At first it struck him as unsettling that no one except Lady Helena made an attempt to mourn Lord Hamish. But after a while, even that began to make sense. Hamish had never done anything but disparage Heath and Lizbeth, and he’d only valued Rochelle for what she could gain him via her marriage. Why should his nieces and nephew mourn him?

  Then, in the early afternoon, in the great hall, Lady Saorise excused herself, and once she’d left something . . . happened.

  It started simply enough.

  Miss Céline asked her sister to organize a card game. Maddox expected Prince Anton to make his excuses and leave, but he didn’t.

  He stayed.

  Miss Amelie explained the rules of a silly-sounding game, and Lizbeth’s face lit up. Soon, Lizbeth, Rochelle, Heath, Amelie, Céline, and Prince Anton had gathered at one end of the table, and they were passing cards to each other at a rapid pace, apparently attempting to make pairs and lay them down as quickly as possible. Rochelle emptied her hand and called, “I’m out!”

  Amelie looked up. “Winner! Who has the queen?”

  Anton showed his hand, and there was the queen of spades.

  “Loser!” Amelie called.

  Maddox could not help his shock when Anton smiled slightly. “Deal the cards again.”

  After several more hands, it appeared Anton had a penchant for ending up with the queen, and by that point, most of the players were laughing as they passed cards as fast as they could. Anton didn’t laugh, but Maddox thought it possible that he didn’t know how to laugh.

  Yet after that first hand, every time he was caught with the queen, Lizbeth would clap with glee and shout, “Loser!” at him.

  He’d smile, just slightly, and he let her tease him mercilessly . . . as a proper future brother would.

  On the sixth hand, Rochelle laughed as she went out again, and her eyes came up to meet Maddox’s. She held his gaze. Unbidden and unwanted, his mind flashed to an image of her writhing beneath him with her arms stretched up over her head as she made small, animal sounds in his ear.

  Biting the inside of his mouth, he pushed the image away.

  When the card game finally lost its appeal, Céline put on a show, telling stories. She was quite good at this, and Maddox found himself so caught up that he had an hour’s reprieve from the pain inside him.

  After that, Heath ran to get his lute, and once again, Anton astonished Maddox. The prince clapped after each song and politely praised Heath for his skills.

  Until that point, Maddox had been taking at least some enjoyment in seeing Rochelle and Heath and Lizbeth so happy as they reveled in these common amusements. But then . . . it hit him that what he watched was an illusion, a fleeting moment in time that would vanish as soon as Anton took his people and left.

  Then once Rochelle was married, Lizbeth and Heath would leave, and Rochelle would be alone, sitting in this hall with no laughter and no stories and no music.

  He couldn’t stand it.

  He had to stop it.

  A maid came into the great hall and announced that Lady Helena was awake.

  “I should go to Mother,” Rochelle said. “Everyone else, please stay.”

  Maddox saw his chance. As she went to leave, he strode after her and no one even looked up. Rochelle glanced back, but there was nothing she could say, and they walked in silence down the back passage.

  Inside the stairwell, he caught her gently and pulled her up against himself. She let him, and he almost couldn’t believe the physical relief of having her in his arms.

  “You cannot stay here,” he whispered. “You cannot do this. You cannot tie your life to that prince.”

  Again, she told him that she had no choice.

  In part this angered him, but he also knew that he’d provided her with no real choice before, and so now he did. Shedding every last ounce of pride, he begged her to run away with him to Belaski. He had skills and he could make a life for them there.

  If she would only agree, he could still save her.

  “And bring shame to my family?” Rochelle asked him. “To my mother? I can’t! Please, please don’t ask me to do this! You only torture us both. If you loved me, you would let me do my duty.”

  She pushed him away and ran up the stairs.

  He leaned against the wall in despair. Then he straightened. Rochelle was still young, almost like a child at times. She might cite family honor and duty, but she had no idea what a future in this place would hold . . . what her life would hold.

  It was up to him to stop this.

  Turning, he took the stairs three at a time, and when he got to the top, Rochelle was just down the passage. He caught up to her before she’d reached her mother’s room, and he grasped her arm.

  “Maddox?” she said in alarm.

  He’d never used his strength against her before.

  But he propelled her into the room she shared with Lizbeth and he closed the door, blocking it with his body.

  “Pack what you need,” he ordered. “We’re leaving.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are,” he said slowly. “And if you don’t leave with me now, I will go straight to the inner west tower, wake up that unnatural prince, and tell him everything you and I have been to each other. I’ll tell him everything we’ve done together and in which rooms of your family’s manor we did them. I’ll describe every inch of your body, and I’ll tell him all the things you beg me to say when I’m inside you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. I don’t care what happens to me anymore.”

  He meant it. He was taking her out of here.

  She stared at him, and for the first time, there was a cast of anger in her eyes.

  “Get a cloak and pack up or I’ll take you as you are,” he said.

  The anger on her face turned quickly to anxiety, but she did what he said, and he took her back downstairs, up the passage to the kitchen, and then outside. Once they were in the courtyard, it was a short walk to the stables. The few Kimovesk guards they passed barely glanced at them. They were a familiar sight here now.

  He saddled both their horses.

  “Mount up.”

  “We’ll never get out the gate,” she said. “Have you thought of that?” All the normal sweetness in her voice was gone, and she sounded like a stranger.

  “You’ll get us out,” he answered, “or I’ll make good on my threat.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she swung up onto her white mare. Maddox mounted his roan, and they rode to the front gate. It was late afternoon, but there was plenty of daylight left.

  Rochelle took the
lead and rode through the gatehouse. She smiled down at the Kimovesk guard on duty there.

  “Please have the portcullis opened,” she said, sounding like her charming self again. “I’d like to go for a short ride.”

  The guard on the ground shifted weight between his feet. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, my lady, but Prince Damek said nothing to me about anyone going out for a ride.”

  She laughed, and the sound was like music. “I hardly think the prince needs to inform you if his future bride wishes to go for a short ride. I have my bodyguard with me.” Her tone altered slightly, becoming more serious. “And I will be mistress of this castle soon.”

  Maddox was both surprised and unsettled by how well she handled this.

  The guard still appeared torn, but he called up, “Open the portcullis!”

  The sound of grinding followed and the gate rose.

  Rochelle and Maddox cantered out and down the road, and he began considering what to do next. He hadn’t had much time to plan inside.

  Rochelle rode around in front of him and pulled up her mare. They were alone on the open road. “It doesn’t matter where you take me,” she said. “He’ll find you, and he’ll get me back.”

  “I think you overestimate the effort Prince Damek might put into anything.”

  “Damek?” she returned scornfully. “He couldn’t find his own horse if it got lost. I’m talking about Heath.”

  “Heath?”

  Again, as Maddox looked at Rochelle, she was like a stranger . . . someone he didn’t even know.

  “Well?” she asked. “What now?”

  Grabbing her reins, he decided to ride into Kimovesk Village. He needed information and directions.

  Chapter Eleven

  The image vanished and the mists closed in, pulling Amelie only a short distance forward. She opened her eyes to see Maddox staring at her. He gagged once and fell forward out of his chair, catching himself with his hands and then gagging again.

  Amelie couldn’t help feeling pity. One of the drawbacks to seeing the past through someone else’s view was that the person had to relive all of it.

  “Well?” Damek demanded, standing in the doorway of the small room. Heath and Rochelle were right behind him. Heath was still angry. Rochelle appeared nervous.

  Amelie had to think fast. The emotions and physical sensations of all that she’d just seen and felt still filled her mind. But she couldn’t reveal Rochelle and Maddox’s past. Prince Anton’s task here was to ensure that the marriage took place, and she could do nothing to endanger that without speaking to him first.

  And yet she couldn’t just leave Maddox to Damek’s mercy, either. What could she say?

  Moving from her chair, she pretended to support Maddox where he’d fallen. “Whatever I say,” she whispered so softly she hoped he could hear her, “just go along.”

  Looking up to Damek, she said clearly, “He abducted her. He forced her to talk her way past the guards, and she did so out of fear.”

  Rochelle closed her eyes in relief.

  “But he meant no harm,” Amelie rushed on. “I saw the events through his eyes, and he truly believed he was rescuing her from unhappiness.” She got up and stood in front of Maddox. “He did not take her for himself. He is their family’s guardian, and he thought he was doing the right thing. Heath, surely, you can understand that?”

  Heath did understand. She could see he did.

  “That is not his place to decide!” Damek spat, and Amelie felt the danger building again.

  From somewhere behind them, Céline spoke. “My lord Damek. I believe Captain Maddox is in service to Lady Helena, and this is a family matter. I suggest we bring the captain back to Kimovesk, lock him up, and then let Lady Helena decide his fate.”

  Amelie couldn’t see Céline, but Damek’s expression wavered. There was much in what Céline had said. First, that Maddox indeed belonged to Lady Helena. Second, Rochelle was Helena’s daughter, but she was not yet Damek’s wife. An execution right here could have repercussions.

  Turning his head, Damek looked to Heath, who hesitated and then nodded.

  “All right,” Damek said, “we take him back. The lady has been recovered, and that is what matters to me.”

  Amelie didn’t believe that for a moment. Damek wanted blood, but at least he’d sounded like a prince.

  Thankfully, Maddox had the good sense to keep silent, and he spilled no tales. No matter what he’d said to Rochelle back at the castle, perhaps he did still care what happened to him and thought his chances were better with Lady Helena.

  “Do we find shelter for the night or ride out now?” Anton asked.

  “We ride out now,” Damek answered.

  Amelie wanted to groan at the thought of hours more in the saddle, but she turned to see if Maddox needed help up.

  As she leaned down, he grasped her wrist briefly.

  “Watch Rochelle,” he said quietly. “She is not what she seems.”

  * * *

  The horses were nearly spent, so Damek set a slower pace on the ride home, and Céline opted for riding sidesaddle.

  Maddox had his hands tied and was surrounded by the Väränj guards.

  It was nearly dawn before they arrived in Kimovesk. Rochelle rode beside Damek all the way, and the two spoke softly for part of the journey. By the time it was over, he was treating her like a tragic maiden who had suffered a terrible ordeal, which she had.

  By that point, Céline was so weary she barely noticed Anton lifting her off her horse. She remembered him taking her and Amelie up to their room. She’d been starving on the way back, but now she was too tired to eat. She let Helga unlace her gown, and then she fell onto the bed. She remembered Amelie falling beside her.

  Then the world went dark.

  She had no idea how much time passed, but a delicious scent woke her sometime later in the day, and she opened her eyes.

  “There you are,” Helga said.

  “What time is it?” Céline asked, still groggy.

  “Late afternoon, but you need to wake up and eat. You’ve had nothing since yesterday.”

  Amelie opened her eyes. “What smells so good?”

  Helga set a tray on the dressing table, and she brought over two plates piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and steaming rolls. Just the sight made Céline’s mouth water, but when she tried to sit up . . . she groaned.

  “Oh, I’m so sore I can barely move.”

  Amelie was in a similar state as she tried to sit up as well. “My legs hurt the worst.”

  Somehow they managed to get some pillows arranged against the headboard and for the first time in Céline’s memory, they ate breakfast in bed like two spoiled ladies. Céline didn’t care how it looked. She wolfed down the scrambled eggs first, and then Helga brought the sisters steaming mugs of spiced tea with generous amounts of milk.

  Amelie ate just as fast, but toward the end of finishing her plate, she began to talk. They’d had no chance to speak last night, and after hearing only a few sentences, Céline stopped eating to listen. Helga stood by the bed and listened as well as Amelie spilled out the story of Maddox and Rochelle, from stolen moments in back rooms, all the way to the attempted abduction last night.

  “She was playing with him,” Helga said. “That girl never had a mind to marry him.”

  Céline concurred, but something else—concerning herself—had her on the edge of real anxiety.

  “Amelie, I read Captain Maddox yesterday morning. I saw his almost immediate future . . . which was his past by last night. The only image I saw was the brief scene at the base of the stairwell where he asked her to run away with him. That’s all I was shown. Why didn’t I see him forcing her to leave with him? Had I seen, we could have stopped it.”

  Amelie stopped eating as well.

  “Maybe you weren’t meant to stop
it,” Helga put in. “Maybe something had to happen last night for you to find the real killer.”

  Céline tried to think of anything that might have happened last night to reveal the identity of the murderer, but her mind went straight to Anton’s mouth pressing gently on her own.

  “Well . . . ,” Amelie began. “Right before Maddox was dragged out of the stable, I leaned down to help him up and he told me to watch Rochelle. He said she’s not what she seems.”

  “From what you told us about her tryst with Maddox,” Céline responded, “that would certainly appear to be the case, but she doesn’t seem averse to marrying Damek, so what would be her motive?”

  Amelie’s face was still thoughtful. “You know who else was different last night? Heath. When I read Maddox, Rochelle seemed sure he would be the one who’d come after her.”

  “Yes, I noticed the difference in him, too. But I think he was driven by getting his sister back. His family only benefits from a connection to Damek, so I don’t see his motive, either. I need to find a tactful way to suggest us reading the both of them.”

  “While you’re thinking about that, maybe you ought to speak to that fool of a captain?” Helga suggested. “Find out what he meant about Rochelle.”

  The thought of getting out of this bed and walking downstairs was hardly appealing, but the sisters couldn’t stay here all day.

  “Have you heard where they took him?” Amelie asked Helga.

  That was a good question. Helga must have gone down to the kitchen for the food.

  “Nope,” Helga grunted. “Either none of the servants know or they aren’t talking.”

  Céline swung her legs over the side of the bed and then winced. “Well, we must find out. Someone in the family will know.”

  Helga walked to the wardrobe. “I had your lavender dress laundered, and Amelie’s light blue one. I’ve also got wash water, and you’ll both need clean shifts.”

  “Oh, thank you,” Céline said, and she was grateful. The lavender wool was her favorite dress. It was comfortable and warm, and it fit her perfectly.